While motherhood is always depicted as an instant bond between mother and child, some mothers find the early days more complex and difficult. Here’s a very honest story.

Dear Son,

You turned 3 year old yesterday. I was just flipping through those memories in photos when the dark shades of my personality started haunting me from the past. That past which I always wanted to bury in a deep corner from where it could never be unearthed. But today, tears roll down my cheeks while I am scrolling down those photos of ours.

You were born under emergency circumstances. The umbilical cord was wrapped twice around your neck and one of the loops was so tight that the doctors had already warned us about dire consequences. Back then, I was just pleading with them for your life even at the cost of mine. But a few hours after the operation, the real pain pinched me.

First of all, I was found to be allergic to the strong painkillers given to overcome the pain of stitches during C-sec. To add to it, everybody who visited us exclaimed, “Oh look at his nose.. Looks just like his dad’s.. See his eyes.. Just like his dadi’s..” Everybody found one or more traits of yours resembling your dad or his relatives but none of them uttered a single word about your resemblance to me or any of my relatives. My mind knew that physical resemblance hardly matters but my heart ached to hear that not even an inch of yours looked like mine. I would have definitely punched one of those relatives hard on the face when you started crying for milk and I got back to my duty. Possibly you could understand my emotions and the unsaid words, back then too.

Because of the negativity created around by those pinching statements of relatives, I just didn’t feel connected to you for a good amount of time. I never felt like looking at you and adoring you for the beautiful smile you had or the cute little feet that kicked. My heart said that I should love you from the bottom of my heart but somehow in those initial days I could never feel it.

You know, whenever I dozed off to sleep, I would curse you for waking me up every 2 hours and not allowing me to sleep for even 5 hours straight. I felt like hitting you and shutting you up and yet, I would spring out of my bed with each twitch of yours. Worriedly check your diaper and get back to feeding you. For the first time in my life, my mind and my heart were at war. A war where everything seemed fair superficially but very unfair on reconciliation.

At one moment of time, when I was at the peak of my postpartum depression, whenever you cried, my mind thought of getting rid of you. I would dream of my easy-peasy life before you stepped in. And the next moment my helpless heart would start crying with you.

Once when you cried through the night without any discernible reason, I shook you up in frustration. Witnessing it, your dad immediately took you in his arms and you started crying harder. Your dada, dadi took turns to console you, but nope! You were inconsolable that night and finally after 10 minutes of struggling we realised that you were stretching out your arms for me. You wanted me. The moment I took you in my arms, you calmed down. You had colic pains and even after being shaken by me, you yearned for me. Instead of hating me, you loved me more and I loved you like never before.

You just ended the guerrilla war my mind and heart had been fighting for long. The war that made me lose my sanity had now ceased to find new joys of life, the joy of parenting. Our mind always works on practical grounds. It reminds us of those sleepless nights and traumatic dealings, adrenaline rush to feed you and how our wallets were always empty after having you. But that day you made me realise that my life is incomplete with you.

I have never experienced a relationship as unconditional and pure as the one with you. You gifted me the joy of parenting which has overshadowed all the guerrilla wars of heart and mind.

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